


Spooky Sledgefu

by Persipnei



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-27 14:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20950070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persipnei/pseuds/Persipnei
Summary: A collection of drabbles posted on my blog during the spookiest month of the year.





	1. FRANKENWEENIE

**Author's Note:**

> The characters of these stories are based on their fictional representation from the TV show. I mean no disrespect to the real veterans.

Merry’s heart broke each time he remembered Eugene wailing and crying over his dead puppy. He never saw Eugene so devastated. It made him feel terrible. Made him feel… _useless_. Because while he tried to comfort Eugene as much as he could, he couldn’t do anything to solve the situation. At first he thought about finding the man that was driving the car that hit Deacon that terrible Sunday afternoon, but it soon proved to be far more complicated than he thought and, after all, he was only_ ten years old_. 

Today was Wednesday and Eugene finally went to class after spending two days at home, mourning. Everybody looked at him curiously; some told him about their pets, hoping to cheer him up. Others, the ones that Merry pushed or tried to bite when they got too nasty, made jokes about his dead puppy and how much of a _baby_ Eugene had to be because he cried during recess. 

Merry walked Eugene home, never looking away from him. The redhead sniffed and looked down. He missed seeing him smile and chuckle each time he said something foolish. 

“Would you be happy again if he came back?” Merry couldn’t help but ask, desperate to find a way to release him from that pain. 

Eugene nodded and that’s all he needed to know. 

*** * ***

Maman told him that, to be a good friend, he should be by Eugene’s side all the time and wait until he would feel a little better. But Merry knew he could do far more than that. He paid special attention during science class and borrowed some books from the library. That night he fell asleep with his lap covered in pages that unravelled life after death.

During Friday morning, Merry insisted: “Are you sure it would make you happy?”

But then Eugene looked at him, like he was hurt. “Why do you keep asking that? He’s not coming back.” it was mean to constantly ask him about something that was not going to happen. 

“But maybe, if he did…” he tried once again, raising his eyebrows. 

Then Eugene would be the happiest boy in the world. But Deacon was not coming back because he was _dead_. Eugene huffed as his eyes filled with tears and sobbed: “You are so mean, Merry.” 

Merry opened his mouth and saw how Eugene stood up and walked away from him. He didn’t speak to him during the rest of the day and sat down by Sid Phillips’ side in every single class. Merry felt something very ugly inside of his chest. But he was determined. Now he had to bring Deacon back so Eugene would be happy again and so he would forgive him. 

*** * ***

Mamaw caught him.   
Merry was covered in mud when he came back home, way after midnight and after spending hours digging in the pet cemetery. Any other kid his age would had been terrified, but it was known that the little cajun boy was bizarre as he could be and that found amusement in things that could easily be described as _macabre_.

“Whatcha got there, Merry?” the old woman asked as the boy kept holding the dead dog (carefully wrapped with a couple of blankets) against his chest. 

“Nothing.” he quickly answered, far from convincing. 

“Doesn’t look or _smell_ like nothin’.” she took a step forward. “Show me.”

“Don’t tell Maman!” he pouted. His mother would force him to take him back and Eugene would hate him forever. “I want my Eugene to be happy again.” Mamaw was not listening to him, knocking against the table with her knuckles so he would simply reveal his plan. The boy sighed a little dramatic and placed the bundle of blankets there so she could take a look. 

“This his dead puppy?” she asked, not sounding horrified or even impressed. 

“Deacon.” Merry nodded. “I love him so much, Mamaw. I’d do anything for him. I have to bring him back.” he looked up at her, with big hopeful eyes. “Help me?”

“You know what you have to do?” she asked as she patted his messy curls, getting some mud off them. 

Merry held her waist and nodded. “But I can’t sew…”

She did that for him. 

*** * ***

The boy giggled when Deacon licked his cheeks and barked happily, swaying his tail a little too enthusiastically.

“It’s going to fall off, calm down!” he patted his back, amused and trying to silence the dog. Deacon barked once more time and he brought his lips to his mouth. “_Shhh_…” And because he was such a well behaved puppy, Deacon sat down and looked up at him, delighted to be back. 

Sure! He looked a little bit funny and slightly different than he used to be (because of the seams and a couple of patches of fabric Mamaw had to add here and there), but his eyes were still sweet and Eugene would be happy again. Merry looked eagerly at the clock on his nightstand and nervously waited until it would be a proper time to call Eugene so he would come over. 

He started calling at seven o’clock, from their phone in the living room. He kept calling and calling and no one picked the phone. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Merry looked up at his mother and smiled, meekly.

“Minet, what are you doin’?” she asked, still a little sleepy and wearing her nightgown. 

“I’m calling my Eugene, Maman. I want to show him something special.”

“It’s still very early, don’t bother them so soon.” she took the phone from his hand before she pressed a kiss against his cheek. “What’s this smell?” Alma sniffed her son’s hands and the collar of his shirt. “And all this mud?”

Merry blinked and shrugged, with another sweet smile. The young woman pressed her lips and sighed. _Ah, this boy of hers! _“Go take a shower. After breakfast you can call Eugene and bring him over, okay?” 

He nodded and quickly rushed upstairs. 

*** * ***

“What is it?” Eugene muttered as soon as Merry opened the door of his house. He managed to convince him to come over even if he was still clearly upset about what happened the other day. 

“I want to show you something, Genie.” he took his hand and quickly made him follow him upstairs. “You are going to be so happy!” he sounded delighted about the idea of seeing Eugene smiled again. Merry closed the door and turned to look at Eugene. “Are you ready?”

The redhead frowned a little bit. He nodded a little confused.

Merry bit his lowered lip and walked towards his bed. He pushed the blankets aside and Deacon barked, thinking that it was a game. The reaction was _immediate_: as soon as he saw his owner, the dog jumped off the bed and rushed towards Eugene, bouncing up and down around him. Eugene gasped and big tears rolled down his pale cheeks, getting on the floor and holding Deacon very close against his chest as the puppy licked his face and continued to bark and show how excited he was to see Eugene once again. Merry looked at him anxiously and only felt relieved when the redhead chuckled among tears when he began to understand that Deacon was_ back for good_. 

He turned his head and looked at Merry, with such a beautiful smile of his lips even if tears streamed down his face and his cheeks glistened with dog’s saliva. Merry’s heart twisted and started to beat _so fast_. “You did this? For me?”

The older boy nodded very quickly. 

Eugene stood up, not releasing the dog at any moment, and hugged Merry very tightly. “You are the best. I love you so so _so_ much!” he pressed a kiss against his cheek and while it felt very moist, it made Merry blush and pant a little bit.

The effort was absolutely worth it if that was his reward. The little abomination between them was the very evidence that there were no limits for the love Merry had for his Eugene. 


	2. AGATHA CHRISTIE

**JUNE 1948**

Nix squeezed Dick’s arm and tilted his head, poiting with his chin at a couple of men that were sitting not very far from them, enjoying their breakfast and chatting quietly. There was something familiar in the intimacy shared by them both. Dick blinked and looked at him, lowering his cup of coffee. Nix made yet another movement with his head, this time far more obvious, but managed to direct the other man’s eyes towards their main focus of interest. Before he could ask what was so _remarkable_ about them, Nix asked: “Isn’t that Eugene Sledge? The redhead.”

Dick needed a second to remember the headline they read on a newspaper a couple of years ago: “The missing Marine?”

“The one that vanished in his way home.” Nix nodded. His parents wrote letters to the newspapers, asking to help them to find their son, who surely took the train that would take him from San Diego to Mobile, but got lost somewhere _in the middle_.

“He could be.” the picture that was published was taken before the youngest Sledge joined the Marines, and therefore, he couldn’t be any older than eighteen or nineteen. The man that was currently smiling while listening to his friend had to be in his mid or late twenties.

“No, no. I’m pretty sure that he is…” Nix insisted. “Why would he be cruising the Danube while his parents are _still_ trying to find him?”

“I don’t think that’s none of our concern.” Dick decided to focus on his breakfast once again when his partner stood up. “What are you going to do?”

“_Investigate_.” he explained, tucking his shirt inside of his trousers.

“You _still_ want to become a detective? I thought it was a joke.”

“Might be an entertaining pastime.” he grinned.

“Stop reading noir fiction before it gets into trouble.”

Nix waved his hand dismissively as he walked towards the other couple. He tried to act casual, like he just bumped into the situation. He even played it like he was going to walk past them and lean against the railing to enjoy the beautiful sight of the clear waters of the river. Observe the beautiful sight the city of Vienna made as they left it behind. But he stopped and rested a hand over the third and empty chair at their table. “Eugene? Eugene Sledge?”

Both of them looked at him. The older man’s eyes were big and made him feel almost uneasy. The redhead parted his lips and frowned slightly. “Yes?”

“It’s me! Lewis! God, it’s been ages!” he beamed brightly.

“Sorry, I don’t remem-” he tried once again, looking confused and a little out of place.  
That made Nix a little suspicious but he kept pretending: “I was friends with your brother.” he remembered that bit of information. That he was the _youngest_ son and therefore, there had to be an older brother.  
He didn’t remember the name, though.

“With Edward?” Eugene seemed to be as confused, trying to make the situation clearer for his foggy mind.

_Bingo!_  
“Yes! With Edward.” he beamed. “Where have you been? We totally lost track of you after the war.”

He opened his mouth and looked at his companion, a little anxious and tremendously confused. The other spoke finally, with a very clear cajun accent. It reminded him to their very appreciated Doc. “You surely ain’t from the South, are you?”

“New Yoker.” Nix grinned, confidently. “I spent a couple of summers in Alabama.” he didn’t where he was from, exactly. Details are not important, are they? “And then I met his brother. He never spoke about me?” Eugene slowly denied. “Oh, that’s disappointing.” he chuckled. “You are…?” he pointed at the cajun with a curious look in his eyes.

“Merriell.” he didn’t bother himself to give him his surname because he neither did. Nix noticed that and while it was a clever, added to how confused and lethargic Sledge looked, it was rather… _worrisome_. Of course, Nix remembered the fact that the Sledge family was a _wealthy_ family. Does he have a case on his hands? An _actual_ case?

“Nice to meet you.” he offered his hand. Merriell put his cigarette back on his mouth and shook it firmly. “Do you mind if I join you?” before they could answer, he already sat down on that empty chair.

*** * ***

“There’s something going on.” Nix told Dick that evening after dinner. Dick looked at him from the corner of his eyes and smiled, clearly not buying his story. Nix’s theory was that Sledge has been kidnapped and manipulated by an old fellow Marine (the redhead himself confessed they met while they served in the Pacific) who was probably penniless by the time they arrived home. “You think I’ll make it to the frontcover if I take the boy back home to his parents?”

“Only to the obituaries if you keep bothering someone who looks far from friendly.” Dick observed the couple from the distance and while the youngest was truly out of place and confused, the eldest looked with intimidating eyes and spoke with a sharp tongue.

Nix grinned and raised his chin, leaning his back against the railing. “Good thing I have you watching my back, huh?”

“_So to speak_.”

Nix was about to return the joke when he heard a ruckus coming from the deck below. “What’s all that noise?” he frowned. People started to scream and he had to follow Dick who was already running downstairs.

“What happened?” he asked as soon as they arrived to the corridor with the most expensive cabins.

“There… There has been a murder.” one of the employees panted, pointing at an open cabin. Nix and Dick made sure to take a look. The picture was _gruesome_, at best. There was blood everywhere and the torso of the man was covered in stab wounds. 

“Was the door open when you arrived?” Nix tried to find someone from the staff or responsible for the ship as more and more passengers gathered around the open cabin in the overly narrow corridor. “Everybody step back!”

“It wasn’t.” a maid answered. She looked shaken and was trembling from head to toe. “He was already dead when I opened the door, after hearing no answer from him.”

Dick frowned and looked around. If the door had been closed but not locked in any way, it could had been literally _anyone_. “Return to your cabins.” he used the same authority as he did back on the battlefield. “If there’s a doctor among any of you, please step forward.”

And a couple of men did, raising their hands as well, somehow taken back by this whole situation. Dick didn’t miss the disturbed look in Sledge’s features. He paled when he caught him looking at him and turned his head. His companion, Merriell, wrapped a possessive arm around his shoulders and helped him to look away by hiding his face on his neck.

*** * ***

“Hey, c’mon.” Merriell helped Eugene to sit down on their bed. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” he crouched in front of him and caressed his cheek before he cupped his chin. “Eugene?”

The redhead finally blinked and looked down at him. He furrowed his eyebrows but nodded, slowly. “I can. I just… I don’t… That was… There was a lot of blood and I…” he panted a little bit, his heart started to beat harder each time.

“It’s alright. It’s okay, stay here with me.” he rubbed his arms and smiled at him, briefly.

Eugene licked his lips and bit the lower one before he whispered: “I need another, Snaf. _Please_.”

“You already had one this morning.” Merriell shook his head.

That Lewis made his boy feel uneasy and doubtful because he truly didn’t remember him. And then guilty and selfish because he never had the courage to go home and tell his parents how much he changed and how he only wanted to be with Merriell until the very end of his days. Scared as he was back then, flee with the man he loved seemed to be his only option. And all those feelings mixed with the constant fear and anxiety that he brought back from the war started to give him tachycardias and a pretty nasty panic attack. It was Merriell who carried his anxiolytics, to keep Eugene from abusing them. But all that blood forced him back to that state of despair that could easily make him look like he was guilty of _something_.

“Please.” Eugene pleaded once again, leaning forward. “I feel it coming, Snaf.” he rubbed his forehead and Merriell was quick to do the same, hoping he could soothe the pain for him.

“They barely let you think properly, Gene.” After taking one of those, Eugene had the same will as a doll. Left him quiet and drowsy for hours.

“I don’t want to think at all, right now.” Because the sight of blood sent him back to those islands. To the carnage. To the things he did and he could not forgive himself for. Eugene held Merriell’s hands and kissed them nervously. “I’ll do anything, I promise.”

“That’s not how it works.” he would never accept any payment for taking care of him. He did it because he wanted to. Because he felt responsible for him. Because he loved him. “If you take one now, I won’t let you have any tomorrow, you got that?”

Eugene nodded, willing to agree with him no matter his requirements.  
Merriell sighed and caressed Eugene’s cheek one last time before he took a metallic pillbox from his pocket. The veteran absolutely despised those pills and what they did to Eugene. But he knew that the alternative could eat his boy alive. No matter what he did or how hard he tried, it never felt like he could help him properly.

Dick and Nix were trying to help with the murder next door as much as they could. They sent everybody back to their cabins and sketched a quick drawing of the arrangement of the corridor. Sledge’s was only two doors away from the victim’s. Because of his unusual behaviour and his companion’s overprotective attitude, they both decided that it wasn’t absolutely uncalled for to open the door slightly before properly knocking. In that moment and without any context, they saw how Merriell put a pill on Eugene’s mouth and offered him a glass of water.

The younger man visibly swallowed it down and returned him the glass, caressing his own forehead and exhaling.

“Don’t worry about it, I gotcha.” Merriell whispered, sitting down by his side, giving them his back and trying to face Eugene. He smiled briefly and closed his eyes when Merriell kissed him slowly as he cupped his cheek. 

_Well, that explains an awful lot but not everything_, Nix couldn’t help but think. Before he could say anything, Dick knocked at the door, rather loudly. That gave the couple enough time for Merriell to stand up and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and for Eugene to clear his throat and start to fight to keep his consciousness for a few minutes more.

Or at least enough to prove his _innocence_.


	3. HANNIBAL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Stabbing

Ack Ack is bleeding in the pantry and Sid is agonizing outside the house. Hamm is dead on Merriell’s kitchen and so is Peck. Burgie is nowhere to be found and Eugene hopes to God that he is still alive.

Eugene he finds Lou in the corridor. She doesn’t look scared. She is not crying. She lost that… endearing essence and Eugene can see her now. As he can see her cousin, Roe, approaching her. He rests a hand on her shoulder and she looks at him. 

“You have to let Merriell take the decision.” he can hear him whisper on her ear.

She nods and looks back at Eugene, briefly. There’s… There’s a stoic sense of care in her features. Who would have told him that was the foolish girl that always grinned and joked. They had all been playing their part, haven’t they? For some reason, perhaps hoping that this is only a nightmare, he’s not aiming at them with his gun. He doesn’t scream at her when she mumbles: “We wanted you to become part of our family.” 

But those two were the ones that pushed Sid out of a window and tried to reduce Ack Ack. The same ones that helped to kill two men. Perhaps three. God, let Burgie be alive. _Please_.

Eugene swallows and he almost feels sad about the missed chance. They walk out of the house and he can’t say a single thing. He can’t even fire a warning shot. 

He finally hears the soft steps coming closer and Eugene _freezes_.   
After closing his eyes, he understands that everything is _lost_. That the outcome will be terrible for everybody. And that, in the most selfish way, won’t get what he truly wants. He had to be an awful person to think that while friends are at the brink of losing their lives. 

“You were supposed to leave…” Eugene says miserably as he turns around. Merriell is there. Betrayed. _Hurt_. Eugene almost feels ashamed for doing what he thinks it’s right.

“We couldn’t leave without you.” Merriell replies, not looking away from him. Sad eyes. Such sad _sad_ eyes. His shirt is soaked in blood (Ack Ack’s? Hamm’s? Peck’s?). He takes a deep breath and Eugene gives himself a second to blink. His throat feels tight and he carries a guilt that should not exist. His gun feels like a toy in his hand. Like it wouldn’t be able to stop Merriell. Maybe he knows that he _can’t_ use it and yet he is still trying to find an excuse.

Merriell touches him and he doesn’t know how to react anymore. He wants to lean against his touch, cry and ask him _why_. Why the need for all that horror and violence. Deep down, he knows and accepts the carnage. But he can’t reconcile himself with his darkest feelings. 

“I was willing to share my world with you.” he confesses and he sounds so genuine that Eugene mourns over the missed chance. Curses himself for wanting to do any of this. “My _family_.” There were three main guets at Merriell’s table, lately. Roe and Lou looked at Eugene as someone they could grow fond of. He felt accepted within those walls. At home. But all… the things he discovered, it was like going to the Underworld for the first time. No matter if the reason is love or death, the experience is just as _terrifying_. “I wanted to surprise you. And you wanted to surprise _me_.” his fingers brush Eugene’s moist hair over his ear and traces his jaw. “I gave you a rare gift. But you didn’t want it.”

Eugene whimpers as soon as he feels the pain on his stomach. The gun falls to the floor and his vision becomes blurry with tears. He grits his teeth, his body shaking and convulsing. Merriell only had to twist and pull and his guts would spill all over floor. He knows that he knows how to do it. And yet, he _doesn’t_. He holds him firmly by the back of his neck and Eugene clutches his shirt, trying to not fall to the ground.  
Merriell holds him and pulls the knife out. Eugene’s blood soaks their shoes.

He covers his wound with his hand. The scent of copper disgusts him more than ever. Merriell holds him so tenderly and yet he doesn’t let him fall to the floor at any moment. It’s Eugene who fights him and _rejects_ him. He pushes him away and he collapses. From that spot, he can see Peck’s shoes and Hamm’s open and dead eyes. 

“You would deny me my life.” Merriell feels like this betrayal had been far too intimate. He allowed Eugene inside of his home, just to set it on fire. He showed him his soul only for him two gnaw it.

“N-no.” Eugene stutters as he convulses the more pain he feels and the more blood he loses. “Not y-your life, n-no.” He never wanted to kill him. He only wanted to… _contain_ him.

“My _freedom_, then.” Merriell speaks louder, interrupting him. “You would take that from me.” Eugene pants and squeezes his eyes shut. Is he going to die? Was this love a_ fatal mistake_? “Confine me to a prison cell.” Where he wouldn’t be able to see his cousins. To look after them. To be around Eugene. To show him his love and _venerate_ him as he did. The offense was too great for him to bear it. “Do you believe you could change me the way I changed you?” he woke something up within Eugene. Something macabre and far more understanding than any rational creature should allow themselves to be. Merriell gave him nothing but acts of violence, no sad story, no background information. He had been feeding him poison and he swallowed it like it was honey. He was so _easy_ to corrupt.

But to think that Eugene didn’t have an effect on him, as well, was tremendously naïve.  
Hamm and Peck are dead. Ack Ack and Sid will be if this doesn’t end soon. What happened to Burgie is still unknown. But Eugene is not going to die. He holds his stomach and while it bleeds and it hurts in the most heartbreaking way, they both know he is not going to die. And that’s the evidence, the _living_ evidence, that Eugene corrupted Merriell just as much. “I already did.” Eugene hisses. No sense of _victory_. He doesn’t smile, he only bares his teeth because of the pain. Merriell continues to look down at him and Eugene presses his lips together and the tears almost stream down his cheeks. 

He _retreats_. He steps back, perhaps accepting his defeat. “I _forgive_ you, Eugene.” For the lies and giving him hope that turned out to be a trick to cage him. “Will you forgive _me_?”

“Oh, no…” it comes out before he can even think. He shakes his head, repulsed and ravenous. “N-no, no.” his mind is telling him to stop. He can’t forgive that much cruelty when it was aimed towards those he cared about. Merriell was also responsible for giving him the idea that he existed beyond the atrocities. He couldn’t forgive him for brushing the veil aside and showing what he truly was. “No, n-no.”

Merriell takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Goodbye, Eugene.” the tenderness hurts more than the knife. Eugene finally sobs because he wants to crawl after him. Leave with them. Be _his_ and become part of their family.


	4. HOCUS POCUS

In his defense, Eugene never meant to cause _any_ of this.   
He was new in town and he was still trying to get used to New Orleans. To their new house, the new high school, the new… _Uh_. The new kind of crush that he suddenly had for this boy called Merriell… He was trying to figure things out. And while he has always been very religious (_thanks mother!_), he never thought that tales involving witches could be _real_. It was known that they were just the result of puritanism. And about _that_, he knew plenty.

_Anyway_.  
He called Sid and he told him how much he disliked being away from Mobile and how much it sucked that he wouldn’t be able to spend Halloween with him. His father overheard the conversation and encouraged him to go to the party a few kids from his class had been organizing for months. Turns out Halloween is, like, very important in New Orleans because it sort of commorated the execution of three nasty witches. _Or something like that_. 

There he bumped into Merriell who was arguing with his little cousin, Lou, because she followed him there and that was clearly not the best place for a ten year old to spend the night.  
One thing led to another (mostly Eugene trying to pretend to be cool and _skeptic_), and they ended up visiting the old hut of the three dead witches. But they couldn’t see a thing and Eugene’s lighter was not enough (he lied when he said that he carried it around because he _smoked_), with his very best intention, he lit the only candle that he saw around before the flame started to burn _black_.

And then?   
Then ground started to shake violently and little Lou started to scream, holding onto her cousin’s waist. Perhaps Eugene also held Merriell as tight as he could, seeing a green light coming from right beneath their feet. 

But then it _stopped_ and Eugene looked around, gulping. “What… What the Hell was that?”

“A _virgin_ lit the candle!” Lou huffed, looking up at him, accusative and far from amused. 

“Lulu, you can’t call people virgins. You don’t even know what a virgin is!” Merriell scolded her, pinching and pulling her cheek. 

She slapped his hand away and grumbled: “I know what a virgin is.” To make her words even far more harmful, she pointed at Eugene: “_Him_.”

And then Merriell decided that instead of correcting her, he could join her and have some fun. As soon as he saw him grinning, Eugene stepped away and cleared his throat, brushing his clothes. “That true, Sledge?” he drawled. “You a virgin?”

“Huh?” he decided to play it dumb. Mostly because it’s the only thing that came out of his mouth at that moment. “No, I… Pfff! No, no way!”  
But the witches were about to prove them _wrong_.

Every single candle started to burn and the door slammed open. The three of them hid under a table and saw the three pairs of old boots walking inside the shack.

“We are home! Oh, sweet revenge!” said the eldest as the other two began walking around. Eugene had to try his best to not blush when Merriell pressed even more against him in their hiding spot. “Élodie Mercier, you will pay for what you did!”

And _that_ didn’t make any sense.  
Their Mamaw was _old_, but… how old was she, _exactly_?


	5. GOTHAM CITY

“_Cher_…” Snafu mumbled lovingly against Eugene’s neck.  
How unusual is to receive such love and affection from someone who is feared and despised by practically an entire city? So their story would make any sense, he would perhaps mention the fact that,_ once upon a time_, his family was fairly influential in Gotham. Eugene remembered plenty of Christmas with far more presents that any kid should get. Some were even left in the box, untouched, by the time Christmas of the following year arrived. 

_But_, all good things to an end.   
A few bad decisions led his father’s business to bankruptcy. His mother got very sick and… _Well_. In less than two years, Eugene lost both of his parents. It was still unclear to what happened to his father but Eugene knew, deep down, that it had plenty to do with the money he _borrowed_ to try to save his mother’s life. His older brother and Eugene were sent to an orphanage and _there_ he met Merriell. 

The boy was scrawny and stared a lot. He always appeared from the shadows when you less expected it. He didn’t speak much to him but Eugene failed to be scared of him. For some reason, he didn’t feel threatened when the boy touched his hair or when he forced him to let him tie his shoes. He assumed he was… _odd_. Edward, on the other hand, didn’t let him get any close to him. But that was the same brother that left him behind as soon as he turned eighteen. By that time, Eugene was fourteen. And little after he turned sixteen, Merriell left as well. Just like that, without saying that he loved him or _even_ kissing him. 

It goes without saying that Eugene lost his faith and didn’t think there was any reason to do any good. Kind souls don’t prosper in this city. So… When he left the orphanage, he took plenty of bad decisions. One thing led to another and he bumped into Merriell (that everybody called _Snafu_), who had far more money than Eugene’s late father. Also a terrible reputation.   
Same Snafu who, in fact, still had a soft spot for Eugene. It was very convenient that Eugene had the developed a strange crush on him during his years in the orphanage.

It only took a couple of meetings and for Snafu to confess that _he loved him back then but that he didn’t have anything and that he wanted to offer him the world and **more** _for them to become something serious. A _couple_.

A couple no one dared to mess with.

“You have the whole restaurant terrified.” the redhead tried to press his lips to hide his smile and amusement. It didn’t work. He even brought his fingers to his mouth. 

Snafu held them and kissed them with such delicate care. He was not scared to show himself in a less intimidating way while professing his love towards his boyfriend (someday Eugene will agree to marry him, mark his words). Then, he added with a lazy voice: “It’s because I’m wearing a shirt.”

Eugene looked at the three guys that were standing in front of their table and their _rifles_. They were clearly there make sure no one would even _think_ about getting too close to them. When Snafu said that he wanted something intimate, Eugene should have pictured something like this. But once again… Should he be surprised? “_Must be_.” he finally chuckled.

Snafu sighed and cupped his face properly. Others would be fearing for their lives. Eugene recalled that one time he saw Snafu pretending to be a dentist using a damn _machete_. Instead, he tilted his head up and caressed Snafu’s forearms, feeling the expensive fabric. He dressed up nicely for _him_. “Don’t wanna share.” And that could sound possessive but once again, this was the same Snafu that dropped the chance to make business with _the wrong people _(plenty of nicknames that were far worse than his and way more ridiculous) _only_ because Eugene didn’t like them.

“You are insane.” Eugene said with a fond voice and an endearing smile on his lips. 

Snafu kissed him tenderly and leaned back, stroking his cheek with the back of his fingers. “Everybody is a little crazy in this city. It’s like… a _requirement_.” he didn’t turn his head before he raised his hand and snapped his fingers, asking the waiter to finally get past the armed men _if_ he dared.


	6. HALLOWEEN PARTY (3:16)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @ANONYMOUS: I have a feeling you’re already planning this, but could we get a 3:16 story of Eugene and Snafu at a Halloween costume party? Thank you!

“You did notice that they went crazy when we showed up, right?” Snafu looked so damn _proud_. That grin on his lips was far too big. 

Eugene rolled his eyes and shrugged, unable to not smile back. “It’s not like it’s the first time they see us together.” They’ve been in a relationship for _practically_ a whole year. Snafu had plenty prepared for they first anniversary and Eugene’s birthday. Same day, double celebration. It’s going to be _great_. “They even posted pictures of us drinking coffee. I don’t know what’s so _thrilling_ about that.” The most remarkable thing that he did was scratch his nose. But, anyway. That’s the price you pay when you want people to look at you. You can’t decide when they do so.

“This is different. You look _hot as fuck _tonight, Red.” Snafu’s hands rested on his hips and pressed his thumbs against the thick fabric of his jeans. Then hooked them on the belt loops and pulled him closer. 

“You’ve been saying that since we left the house.” Eugene pushed him away a little bit but Snafu quickly brought him back, looking at him like he was mesmerized. The party was fun, crowded. The music was loud and there plenty of people he knew there and yet, he couldn’t look away from him. 

“That’s a lie.” the frontman teased. “I also said it _before_ we left.”

It’s true.  
As soon as Eugene walked out of the bedroom, Snafu was all over him. And that was quite annoying. Especially for Lou, since she was still trying to finish Snafu’s costume. You see, pretend to be _Prince_ for one night was not easy. The frontman started to sing Purple Rainto soothe the beastly cousin, but it truly did not work. It goes without saying that Snafu looked really good as the legend, but he has been so… _effusive_ about Eugene deciding to go as George Michael that truly didn’t have the time to flatter him. But he liked the curls (he ran his fingers through them and Snafu purred) and purple fit him _so well_.

“Yeah…” Eugene smiled, wrapping his arms around his neck. Snafu wrapped his own around Eugene’s waist, feeling the words on the back of his leather jacket: _REVENGE_. Not his doing, once again, Lou did a good job recreating the jacket George Michael wore for the video of Faith. _You should get paid more of this_, Snafu commented when he saw how she even got Eugene a cross earring. _Pay me more then_, she replied absolutely shameless. She made his wet dream come true and Eugene was _not_ going to sleep tonight. He is not going to let him while he was wearing those tight jeans and had the sleeves of his leather jacket rolled up. No way in Hell.

“Wear those sunglasses again, Red. C’mon, baby. Just for me.” Snafu licked his lips and tilted his head up. 

“It’s way past midnight, Snaf. I can’t do it, I am not a _douchebag_.” Eugene huffed and shook his head.

“Are you goin’ to wear them when we get home? Be real cool about it _because not everybody has a body like you_?” Snafu sounded ridiculous but he was far from joking. 

The redhead finally looked away, with a big smile on his lips. That was the most foolish man he ever met! “Why are you so weird?”

“I’m not _weird_, I am just _horny_ and _in love_.”

“Oh, I believe so.”

“_You gotta have faith_.” he sang, brushing his nose against his cheek before he nipped his jaw. Eugene tilted his head away, playful not ashamed. 

“I actually like _Freedom_ more than _Faith_.” A pun or a confession? 

Snafu swayed a little bit with him to the music they were playing. He even had his back towards the other people. They didn’t matter at all to him. He only went to that party to see his boy dressed up. And because he wanted to show off, maybe. He hummed and asked: “_You were every little hungry schoolgirl’s pride and joy?_”

“_Hardly_.” Eugene snorted and shook his head. He doubted anyone _ever_ had a crush on him other than Rob and Snafu. And it’s known that the one that had the most fans from his group was Leckie. Then Sid, and finally,_ if so_, Eugene.

“You can always try next year. Maybe go as Linda Evangelista.” Snafu added between kisses (Eugene didn’t deny any of them even if there might be cameras inside of the party as well). That was the only name of a long list of supermodels that were part of that iconic music video that came to his mind.   
Ah, wait. _No_. Naomi. Naomi was in it, too. 

“Platinum blonde? I can’t pull it off.” Eugene brushed the tip of his nose against Snafu’s. The frontman sighed, _delighted_. “Plus, you wouldn’t be able to call me Red. It would break your heart.”

“It truly would.” Snafu leaned forward, trying to bite Eugene’s chin. The redhead could avoid that awkward picture and pressed kiss against his lips.   
After all, if they do publish those photos, they will be far better and more interesting than them _simply_ drinking coffee. 


	7. ROMANTICISM

The manor was _ghastly_.  
It was either going to sink or about to be flooded by the murky waters of the bayou. This was Eugene’s first time in Louisiana and so far the experience has been… well, _that_. An _experience._ It all began with a letter. Merriell Shelton, the novelist, claimed that he was_ an admirer _of his work. That his poems were the very last thing he read at night. And that he often fell asleep with his book on his stomach and a smile on his lips. Eugene’s overly worried mind made him ask himself if he did so because he found his writing either boring or amusing. It didn’t aim to be any of those adjectives. But perhaps he felt touched when Shelton also assured that he even read his multiple books about the bird and flora from his hometown. 

The letter concluded with an invitation. Shelton offered him to visit during the month of October. He said that if _forced intimacy_ was what bothered him, that his good friend R.V. Burgin and his wife, Lady Florence, would spend the whole month with him. And that if he wished, he could bring _his most desired_ company along with him. Eugene asked his good friend Sid and his wife, Mary, if they would go with him. They both agreed. 

When they arrived everything was _odd_. Once again, the manor was in a terrible state and the wood creaked under their feet. Sid looked scandalized but Mary, being a paintor, found beauty in the decade of the house and the macabre charm that emanated from the swamp. 

And while the manor looked like a rotten ugly thing from the outside, on the inside it reeked of _Romanticism_. The corridors were narrow yet long. Almost never-ending, with a row of arcs that supported the weight of the upper floor. The stairs, on the other hand, were colossal. As soon as he saw them, Eugene couldn’t help but picture himself running anxiously and trying to escape from something that was chasing him from _above_. The vision put a thin layer of sweat on the back of his nape. An eerie feeling. They should leave. 

And maybe they would have if Mary felt any less mesmerized. She held her husband’s hand and forced him to observe the drawing room. Like any other Romantic, Shelton looked like he was obsessed with the Eastern world. The decoration revealed his fascination. And while Mary tried to soothe her curiosity and Sid followed her while grumbling, Eugene stood a little behind, with his hands behind his back, a little judgemental and perhaps fearing that all that… _extravagance_ would corrupt him. 

“Far from impressed, I see.” Eugene heard a low and melodic voice that dragged the words almost like he was whispering a spell. When he turned his head he couldn’t help but think that maybe that fascination for the Eastern world was more like a reminder of his origins, judging his beautiful and sturdy bone structure and his olive skin. 

His tongue felt numb and his stomach started to burn. Eugene almost worried about his defective heart when it started to beat fast and loud against his chest. “We didn’t know what to expect, Lord Shelton.” he didn’t forget his title even if the novelist often did. 

“Merriell will do.” he corrected him, taking a step forward. “I hope this meeting will bring you as much _pleasure_ as it will bring me, Sledge.” Eugene thought that he had a quite _explicit_ way of expressing himself through letters. That’s why he avoided his novels about vice and ambition as much as he could no matter how popular he was. Turns out that to hear him speak was even worse. Put a melody to Eugene’s most intimate fears and cravings. “I’d be _delighted_ if you could read us some of your poems, tonight.”

Eugene licked his lips and decided to cease his foolish nerves. “I would like to meet your guests before that.”

“Of course.” he smiled. It didn’t make him feel welcomed. It made him anxious and excited. When Shelton rested a hand on his waist, before Sid and Mary approached to show him the way, Eugene felt his body becoming weaker and weaker.

_Oh, Lord, help me. _

*** * ***

Both couples clapped as soon as Eugene finished reciting his latests poems. Eugene smiled and bowed his head with gratitude and modesty. He was about to take a seat before Merriell gestured him to stay there, right in front of the fire. “I have a question.” he said as he exhaled a big puff of smoke. 

“Of course.” Eugene nodded. A moment to discuss his creation, a writer’s dream! Then why he felt so nervous and like he barely knew any answers to the many questions he might get?

“You often mention love in your poems,” he began. “doesn’t feel like it’s a love between a man and a woman.”

“Because it’s not.” But Eugene rushed to add: “Between a soul and God.” he wouldn’t want them to misunderstand his message. 

“Therefore, love can only be _pure_ when the one receving it does not act on it.”

“The concept of _purity_ does not equal to the idea of indifference.” Eugene replied, sounding far more convinced than he felt. “It’s a love that is aware of the limits and yet still offers devotion and blind faith.”

“_Is this the destiny of man? Is he only happy before he has acquired his reason or after he has lost it?_” he quoted before gnawled his pipe with his pale and straight teeth.

“I don’t think it’s all that wise to quote a book that brought so much madness and confusion to its readers.” Eugene frowned. 

“Are we so easily persuaded? Is a writer supposed to be a father to his readers and not show them the tragedies of the world in fear they might not be able to take them or, worse, replicate them?” Shelton questioned once again, looking awfully calm on his armchair. 

“Each writer has the freedom to express anything that they might want to share, but I think it’s only rational to be aware tha-”

“_Rational_. Funny little word.” the novelist interrupted him. “Is that a synonym for apathy? To suffocate passion and emotion in order to be able to fit a list of rules that keeps a man from exploring his true pleasures?”

“I doubt that ending another’s life would bring _anyone_ pleasure.” Eugene said.

“Then you know so little about humankind, Sledge. People kill everyday. Either revenge or sadism. I do believe both reasons would bring just as much pleasure.” he played with his pipe and grinned. “We don’t agree, do we?”

“I don’t find Romanticism all that interesting. Nor its darkness or the need to justify everything that is _abominable_.”

“_Abominable_. One of my favourite words…” Shelton hummed before Burgin decided to interrupt them both in hope to lighten the mood and get the new guests to hear to his wife’s beautiful singing skills. 

*** * ***

Eugene laid in bed wide awake.   
He looked at the ceiling and played with the fabric of his night clothes, his legs feeling moist and warm under the heavy blankets. He sighed and brushed his hair thinking that this had been one terrible mistake. Ever since his discussion with the novelist, his head had been hurting terribly. Eugene was aware that he was a very squared man. He didn’t like to give in and neither he enjoyed all that much to speak with those whose ideas were brutally opposed to his. Sometimes he wished to be more understanding, but he feared that he could be seduced and lose the path he was taught to follow ever since he was a little boy. 

He bit his nails and looked around anxiously. The lack of light made his room look terrifying. There were shadows and shapeless monstrosities in all four corners. The walls _breathed_, letting out a hissing and ugly noise that was far from sounding like a lullaby. But fear… Fear was irrational. Even if there were ghosts and terrors trapped in this house, God would protect him. He only had to have a little faith. He turned on his side and closed his eyes. 

Then he felt careful fingers caressing his hair and Eugene jumped and moved away from them with a suffocated yelp. Shelton smiled at him, sitting on his bed, with the subtle light of the candles revealing his face. “I didn’t meant to startle you.”

Eugene was still clutching his chest, panting heavily. “Oh, Heavens! What is wrong with you?!”

“I apologize.” Shelton snickered. 

“It’s way past midnight! Leave!” he hissed. He couldn’t be… This was not appropiate. 

“Scared of getting _the_ scarlet letter, Sledge?” he said before he drew an A on his chest with his finger. His heart trembled underneath flesh and bone. 

Eugene slapped his hand away, only managing to obtain another mocking grin from the novelist. “This might be your house, but if you offer your rooms to guests, you are no longer allowed to step in any time you want.”

“You want to teach me proper manners, Sledge?” Behind him, there was something else that was moving and that Eugene couldn’t quite see due the darkness. The flames of the candles wavered and none of them paid any attention to that detail.

“Someone should, considering you have _none_.” Eugene frowned. 

“I am willing to stand by your door, next time. Would that be _proper_? To long to come in, knowing that I only can if you have me?” Shelton leaned a little closer. Eugene blinked and parted his lips. “Don’t get me wrong. I do find thrill in _prohibition_. It’s a nice entertainment.” his fingertips brushed over Eugene’s throat, before he delicately wrapped his fingers around his neck. The redhead closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resisting this very unexpected situation. “Gives me a _purpose_. It’s been ages since I had one…” he whispered under his breath as his thumb followed the nervous gulp. 

Eugene would never know which would had been his next move. A blood-curdling noise came from the room right on top of Eugene’s. It was like a heavy pant or a retching sound. He couldn’t quite decode something he never heard before. He held onto Shelton’s arm and looked up, bliking and still not seeing _anything_. 

“I must go.” the novelist said suddenly, looking nervous for the very first time. 

“No, wait!” he didn’t want to be left alone. Eugene gripped his loose shirt and kneeled over the bed. “Please.”

“It’s late.” Shelton pried his hands off him and grabbed the candelabrum. “Lock yourself as soon as I leave.” he instructed him. Eugene doubted and a door slamming shut convinced him. Whatever that he heard, was out of its cage. “Fuck!” he cursed right before he ran out of his bedroom. 

The poet jumped off the bed and locked it with trembling hands. Then, not daring to turn his back, he stepped backwards towards the bed and the only thing that came to his head in that moment of fear was praying. And while he closed his eyes, hoping that God would hear him, the shadows kept moving around him; quiet and unnoticed.


	8. MARROWBONE

“You don’t have to visit them every single day.” Sid mumbled as he observed Eugene. His best friend was clearly ignoring him. That didn’t keep him from making a second attempt: “People talk about them, you know?”

“People talk about _everybody_ all the time.” the redhead shrugged. “They talk about _you_. They talk about _me_. How is that any important or interesting?”  
He was not listening to him, was he?

Sid closed the suitcase and Eugene could move his hands away right in time. “They don’t say we are _cursed_.”

“_No one_ is cursed, Sid.” he finally looked at the younger boy. “You are acting like a fool, right now.” Eugene scolded him. “Give me the dolls.” he extended his hand towards him. Sid frowned and looked at the old dolls that used to belong to his little sister. He shook his head. “They don’t have _anything_, Sid.” 

“And how is that _my_ problem?”

“How can you be so selfish?” Eugene moved to grab the dolls and Sid stepped back, moving them behind his back.

“And who says they won’t curse my sister? I heard they are from _Louisiana_. Ever heard about Voodoo, Eugene? They only need one object to curse a person. I’m not risking my sister.”

“They are normal people like you and me, for God’s sake!” he huffed. “No witches, no curses, no Voodoo! There’s a little girl living in that house with nothing to play with, and you refuse to give her some dolls no one in this house is ever going to play again with?”

“I don’t know them and I don’t have to care about them. It’s not my problem they tricked you!” Sid argued.

“That’s _ridiculous_.” Eugene felt offended that he could think that he was that gullible. “Lou is the sweetest girl. Roe is kind, perhaps a little quiet but very nice and polite. And Merriell…” he needed a second to understand his own feelings and impressions about the eldest cousin. Eugene bit his lower lip. “Well, Merriell is _bewitching_.”

“Right, do you really want to use that word with a family of witches and warlocks?” Sid arched an eyebrow.

“Can you be any more stupid?” he snapped. “I don’t think you can. Keep being cruel to those who are less fortunate, see how that turns out for you.” And since he was clearly not going to give him the old dolls, Eugene grabbed the suitcase and stormed out of the bedroom. Sid called his name a few times but he didn’t stop.

*** * ***

It took him about him about an hour to get to the old and rotten house.  
Granted, Eugene was not very fast with his bicycle, but he found pride in the fact that the suitcase he brought was quite heavy. It did slow him down more than usual.  
He only had to mention the word _charity_ for his neighbors to want to feel like good samaritans and donate all those clothes they no longer needed or wore to those who might need them. Eugene didn’t bother himself to explain who would be wearing them and they did not ask because they cared but not_ that much_. 

“Merriell!” he waved as he left the bicycle by the fence.

The eldest cousin was chopping wood to be able to stay warm inside. The house didn’t look cozy or warm in any sort of way. But things around here were surprising. As it was surprising that as scrawny as Merriell was, he could be doing that task without much trouble. It looked like he knew how to use an axe.

He stopped as soon as he saw Eugene. He smiled and stepped towards him, failing to have enough patience to let the redhead reach him while carrying such heavy weight.

“Whatcha got there?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Clothes.” Eugene huffed and left the suitcase over the patchy grass. “Shoes. Books. Brushes. A couple of colognes.” And a few more thing he couldn’t really remember. “I didn’t manage to get any dolls for Lou, though.” Because Sid was stupid and selfish. “You said any help would be welcomed, so…” He couldn’t help but feel a little nervous under Merriell’s very direct gaze.

After a moment of silence, he asked: “And you don’t need any of those?”

“No, I asked my neighbors.” And in that moment, it sounded like it took a lot of time and effort. And maybe it did, but he did it _willingly_. “I had some free time.” Eugene rushed to add. 

“Yeah…?” Merriell asked and leaned in. “You got good neighbors, Sledge.”

“Oh, no. Not at all. They love to pretend they care but it’s only an excuse to look all kind and Catholic and have an excuse to buy new things.” When he was around Merriell, it felt like his tongue became a little sharper. Like he dared to speak things he often thought about but kept for himself. “I mean.” he cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly. “_One who is gracious to a poor man lends to the Lord, And He will repay him for his good deed_.” Implied selfishness for that personal reward.

“And I am _the poor man_.” Merriell teased.

“No, it’s just…” Eugene babbled, feeling foolish.

“It’s alright.” he hummed and stepped back. The eldest boy took the suitcase from his hand and walked inside of the house. Eugene rushed to follow him. “Roe, Lulu! Eugene brought presents!”

He felt bad that the only _presents_ they could have were things that had already been used and clothes that were old and threadbare. Still, he heard the other two cousins rushing downstairs and quickly showed up in the kitchen with curious eyes. Merriell put the suitcase over the table with Eugene’s help and opened it. Lou, who was the youngest and about ten years old, gasped and quickly grabbed the few dresses that were in there. Roe, who was far calmer, waited and inspected the books Eugene put there himself.

“Cigarettes?” Merriell asked as he scanned the inside of the suitcase with his eyes.

“No cigarettes.” Eugene shook his head.

“Well, it couldn’t be perfect.” he huffed and sat down over a chair, willing to let Roe pick whatever he liked the most and get whatever that was left.

Eugene felt the desperate need to please him. To make him smile and get him to feel happy about his presence. He parted his lips and finally mumbled: “I could… I could buy you some, if you want me to.”

“I ain’t got no money to pay you.” he shook his head.

“It’s fine. I smoke too.” he lied. “We’d share.” The idea to share a cigarette with Merriell sounded _thrilling_. Made his stomach twist and _burn_. He looked at him and Eugene was sure that he blushed. At least he was not teased about it. “If you want.”

“Sure.” he stood up once again, walking past Eugene. He brushed his arm against his and he _shivered_.

The redhead took a deep breath and then focused on the other two cousins for his own sanity. “If you enjoy reading those books,” Roe looked at him curiously. “I can bring you more. I have tons of them.”

“I’d like that.” he smiled. Eugene was not sure how old he was. Unlike the youngest cousin, he didn’t brag about his age anymore. But Eugene was sure that he was younger than Merriell and himself. Perhaps fifteen or sixteen. “Do you have a book that tells you how to get rid of raccoons?”

Eugene blinked and then frowned. “I…” Was that a joke or an actual question?

“We got a raccoon, _this big_,” Merrilled showed the size with both hands and it was quite _large_, indeed. “running behind the walls of the house. I saw that fucker a couple of times. Couldn’t catch him, yet.” he grumbled.

“We should keep it as a pet!” Lou intervened.

“We already have you as the beastie of this house.” the eldest mocked her with a mean smirk. 

The girl furrowed her nose, angry. “It ain’t me who got all bloody back home!” she huffed and Roe blinked, turning towards her and covering her mouth with his hand. 

“_Tais-toi, Lulu_!” Merriell hissed.

Eugene blinked.  
_…What does that even mean?_


	9. TRUE BLOOD

Merriell died three days ago.   
It happened so suddenly. He came back home one night saying that he felt sick; he was pale and he could barely walk. His eyes looked glassy and no matter how much water he drank, he was still thirsty and his lips were far more chapped than usual. Eugene could still remember how rough they felt when he kissed them for the last time. 

Eugene began to fear the worst when Merriell started to vomit _blood_. At first, bright red and reeking of copper. Then, it became darker and thicker and Eugene was scared that he was going to lose him. He begged to Mamaw for her help, but the woman said there was _nothing_ she could do. Merriell died before the Sun raised and Eugene felt like his life, as well, ended that tragic morning. 

He visited the graveyard every single day. There were macabre stories about the cementery of New Orleans, about Voodoo Queens and Zombies. He failed to be scared. His sadness ate any other feeling; overpowered them all. He cried and cried in front of his grave and Merriell’s cousins had to take him back to the house, scared that he could get sick or hurt. Mamaw only patted his cheek and sighed when he accused her of letting him die. She could save _anyone_. He saw it before. 

But tonight no one came. It was way past midnight and Eugene was still there, kneeling over the wet glass, crying and asking himself _why_. They were so happy and the future seemed to be hopeful. Perhaps not easy, but at least they had the chance to live together. Now, he only had the letters Merriell used to write to him and his clothes. Nothing more in that rotting and lonely house by the bayou.

“I miss you.” Eugene repeated. “Please, come back.” And while Merriell promised that _nothing_ would ever stand between them, it was far too complicated to beat death. That was the last enemy. He leaned forward and placed his hand over the stone, feeling his name right under his palm. “I love you. I need you here with me.” Eugene begged with a trembling voice and Merriell _heard_ him. 

The redhead closed his eyes and a few more tears rolled down his cheeks. Before those could drip down his chin, a hand erupted from the ground. It grabbed his forearm and Eugene screamed, falling back. He could manage to release himself, but before he could turn around and escape, the hand grabbed his ankle. Eugene’s attempts to crawl were _futile_. The body was emerging from the sacred ground, covered in dirt and dragging Eugene back towards what seemed to be a diabolical being. 

“_Eugene_.” 

And then his blood _froze_.  
He turned his head and there he was. _Merriell_. Far from being alive, but he was there. Different but somehow the same. Eugene parted his lips and extended his hand towards him. His fingers trembled when he touched his cheek. He was covered in dirt from head to toe, and so where his clothes. The same ones they dressed him up with when they buried him. His olive skin was now dull, lacked the natural and healthy glow it used to have. His eyes… Still big and green but didn’t reflect any sort of light as the graves did with the moonlight. His body was cold and stiff. Merriell leaned against his touch and breathed deeply. 

“My Eugene. My boy. I’m here. _I’m here_.” he whispered, kissing the palm of his hand. His lips were still as rough and chapped. 

“Merriell.” he gasped and more tears came to his eyes. Dead or _not_, Merriell still couldn’t see him crying. He pressed those thirsty lips against Eugene’s and kissed him deeply. After _days_ of mourning, Eugene accepted the dirty kiss without any doubt. He wrapped his arms around Merriell’s shoulders and pressed him tightly against his body. _So cold_. 

“I’m no longer the same, cher.” he tried to explain as he was interrupted. Eugene couldn’t stop kissing him. “_Eugene_.” His hands cupped his face and forced him to take a proper look of him. His teeth grew, white and those _did_ reflect the light of the moon. 

Now it made sense. He blinked and caressed his chin, the tips of his fingers brushed over his lower lip and Merriell kissed them dutifully, squeezing his eyes shut, perhaps fearing rejection. 

“I don’t care. You came back.” Merriell came back from the dead for him. How could he possibily reject him? “I don’t care.” he breathed for the second time and ripped the collar of his shirt, leaving a good expanse of skin visible. Merriell licked his rough lips, his eyes focused on his neck. “Take what you need.” he cupped the back of his head and encouraged him to bite and drink him. 

Merriell brushed his lips over his pulse and Eugene only winced lightly when he tore his skin, forcing his fangs deep inside of his flesh. He gulped his blood while he held him down tightly, so Eugene couldn’t move. Surely he didn’t want to risk ripping his throat open during a moment of fear.  
But he was not scared. He felt _happy_. He felt _satisfied_. Even more so when Merriell’s body began to turn a little warmer as he feed out of him. “I love you.” he breathed. “I love you, I love you.” And Merriell moved away from him to not leave him too weak. Eugene kissed him again, tasting his own blood. It didn’t taste anymore displeasing than the dirt. 

With his eyes dark and his body full of borrowed life, Merriell made love to him in that field of death with the promise that he would _never_ leave him ever again.


End file.
